Strange Bedfellow
by Sasukeluva 4eva
Summary: Because Usagi ALWAYS gets his way in the end. .::Shounen-Ai/Boys Love/Pure Fluff::.


**Author's Note:** Thought I'd try something new. 'Nuff said.

**Disclaimer: I will never own Junjou Romantica, nor do I wish to (TOO. MUCH. YAOI. O_O); all rights go to their respective owners, and I make no profit from this short little oneshot. **

**Prompts:** _The manga (*cringes away from awkward sex scenes*), love ballads—namely __**Wrap My Arms**__ by __Brian McFadden__ (total asshole, hate his guts; love the song, though :/), nummy bishounen._

**Categories:** Romance/_**Friendship**_

**Rating:** T (For profanity's/innuendo's sake)

**Warning:** _This is explicitly shounen-ai; I have no interest whatsoever in yaoi, and I highly doubt the possibility of there ever being a story, short or otherwise, coming from me for that particular genre—the only exceptions to that rule being Uchihacest (Sasuke/Itachi), Twincest (Zero/Ichiru) and Siblingcest (Sesshomaru/Inu Yasha). I'll leave that to the experts, thank you very much._

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**Summary:**

_Because Usagi __**always**__ gets his way in the end._

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**S**a_s_**u**k_e_**l**u_v_**a **4_e_**v**a _p_**r**e_s_**e**n_t_**s;**

_**Strange Bedfellow **_

_An Usagi x Misaki (Fluffy) Oneshot_

* * *

No, this was not how he had pictured his evening, not in the least bit.

He had imagined himself, after settling into a heated bath for some much needed relaxation, lounging languidly on the expansive couch in the living room whilst channel surfing through all of the cheap and classy porno alike, hand shoved unceremoniously down his pants as he thought of better ways to entertain himself.

He had imagined himself standing from that couch, after attaining his mandatory daily muse with time to spare, and sidling contentedly into the kitchen so that he could sift through the (most likely) barren fridge and pantry, in the hopes of acquiring some nourishment after doing a quarter-mile in under three minutes (hoorah for new record-breaking times!).

Hell, he had even imagined himself doing all of the aforementioned in a state of blatant undress; it hadn't mattered at the time, such a trifle pondering, for Usagi was not home to bear witness to his unabashed nudity, and thus he had been given the perfect openings to all of these 'imagined' scenarios.

Unfortunately, not all plans go accordingly, for as Misaki was within the realms of serious contemplation—of throwing away all of his inhibitions with reckless abandon—there was an agonising _'click!'_, the click of a lock being _un_locked, and the ominous creak of a door sweeping to an eerie open.

At this stage Misaki was already amidst diving for his bedroom, not wishing for any human contact, let alone with _him_ (the man who was supposed to be _not here, but was_), ensuring that he was stealthier than a fucking black cat as he slipped silently into the confines of his room, not even the sound of his door closing being heard in the endless quietude as he all but dove onto the well over-the-top mattress, scrambling under his doona cover and pulling it taut, at eye level, around his pretty face.

From there, he feigned sleep, ears attuning themselves to the slightest of noises from outside of his room's door.

There was an awful lot of shuffling, the muffled uttering of foul curses that were dulled by the thick mahogany barrier on the opposite side of his sleeping quarters, before footsteps became audible.

_Step, step, step! _

_Step, step, step!_

They came closer and closer and closer until…

The too-loud groaning of his door protesting to the unwanted intrusion reached his twitching ears.

This could only mean one thing.

He was rigid, more so than his earlier erect cock, muscles tense and refusing to cooperate with Misaki's order to CALM THE FUCK DOWN as another weight sunk into the deliciously soft mattress (plush, was the word that he liked to use to describe it as, for it was the only one most suited to the lavishness of the expensive tastes of the room, and the remaining décor in turn), making its way toward his prone form, the rustling of his blanket grating against his nerves.

This was not how he had imagined his evening to be. Having been molested by the crazy elder man once already (since he had moved in with him), Misaki was all too aware of the sexual tension that Usagi seemed to _excrete_ whenever within clear vicinity of him, and so had done well to avoid him cleanly, and consequently all of his advances as well, and his latest work project was supposed to have kept him away for _at least_ another week and a half!

So then _why_ was he _back_, and so _soon_?!

Clenching his eyes shut, he awaited the inevitable, only to feel two heavily laden arms fold around his person, a chin tucking itself over the crest of his dark hair, and two legs twining around his own, reeling him in like a fish out of water until he was pressed against a hot, firm chest.

When Usagi had managed to slip under his covers, he had no idea, but it hardly mattered, what with the strenuous predicament he was now facing.

Or not, seeing as his back was to it, but _still_; the point still stood, regardless of its actual inaccuracy (in real life).

He felt the rebellious need to squirm, but it was squashed as quickly as it had come when a deep, fatigued sigh left the elder man's lips.

It seemed that the perverted psychopathic author was exhausted, and it was evident in the way his body slouched against his, rather than moulded, his entire weight causing Misaki to sink further into the (plush) mattress.

"Oi, get off."

Misaki was blunt, ruthless in his desperation to escape from the unwanted embrace, from a man that was "in-the-like" with him, so to speak, and thus frazzled his every shortened nerve as a heterosexual young man, with the closely established _lack_ _of_ personal space and boundaries (which seemed to be a rule to living in this freak show's penthouse in the first instance).

Usagi's grip only tightened around him, the hold he had on him almost suffocating as he tugged the younger male ever closer to his warm, welcoming figure.

"'Dun… wan'ah…"

He mumbled tersely, deep voice slurred with the desire for sleep, his lack of coherence disturbing the boy even further, for it meant that escape would prove to be futile—he would not be leaving from this cuddle-fest any day soon, in other words.

Annoyed, Misaki writhed in discordant jerks, trying in vain to loosen the vicelike clutch.

As expected, he failed miserably, for the blonde man merely yanked the adolescent's legs further back with his feet, his right leg hitching up over his hip (and the other wrapping around his thin lithe limbs from beneath), only to seconds later become a permanent burden upon Misaki's feeble frame, too lean to fight against the oppressive burden that was Usagi's dense muscle weight.

He flailed, floundered, fell, further into the soft mattress (he was beginning to detest its comfort now), until he felt like he had become part of the stuffing itself.

Well he'd just have to use a ploy to lure himself out of the sticky situation then.

"Oi, go cuddle someone else! Suzuki-san is _far_ _more_ suited to something like _this_, not _me_."

Another tightening grip, like a snake about its prey, before a small stretch of lips against the top of his skull is felt.

It was a mumbled response, one that sucked the very air right from the young teen's lungs, and sent his mind into hectic oblivion.

"Mmmnnoooo, Misaki is better… to cuddle… so comfy and waaaarrrmmmm…"

With that said, Usagi settled down completely, allowing sleep to fully wash through his system, his wearied mind eased of its troubles as he inhaled the intoxicating scent of the lovely boy (almost) beneath him, content in just having him close for the time being.

And thus Misaki had then become a human body-pillow for Usagi's sleeping pleasure, upon which he cursed Suzuki-san for everything that he was worth, because it was essentially _his_ fault for getting him into this complicated mess (if only he [the stupid _fucking_ _**teddy bear**_] had been _warmer_, then this wouldn't have been happening!).

No, this was not how he had pictured his evening.

Not in the least bit.

***.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.***

_When Usagi awoke in the morning, body and limbs __**still**__ entangled with the unconscious, not-so-rebellious-youth before him, he smirked. _

_It looked like he had gotten his way in the end after all._

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_**Ending Remark: **_OOC? I don't particularly care. 

I started this plot _months_ ago, but have neglected to complete it since then, and I have not been keeping up with the manga as much (I think I need to reread it for characterisation again, because I felt that I couldn't connect to Usagi and Misaki as I may have been able to six months ago), so I haven't the faintest idea what's happening with their dynamical relationship. 

If it's just been senseless yaoi, then I know that I haven't really missed much, so yay. :D

Anyhow, please be kind and leave me some feedback.

No flames allowed. 

Happy hunting. ;)

Ja mata ne!

~**R**i_n_


End file.
